Don't Touch Me
by layababbii
Summary: 17 year old touchaphobic Anya is found broken on the sidewalk with no recollection of what happened. Evelyn invites her to stay with her and her three sons. Jack attempts to comfort her and help her remember, but will she let him? M for various reasons.


A/N: Hey there, everyone! This is a fan fiction I started a while ago, and I'm just rolling with it, so let me know if you like it. I do not own Four Brothers, but if I did, Jack would be mine :3

Anywho, send me reviews and all that good happy stuff. Enjoy, loves!

I was running, running as fast as I could, and even then, it almost felt like I couldn't get away. I didn't want to think right now, but everything that had just happened was still playing over in my head again like some sick movie marathon. And before I knew it, I hit the pavement, but I landed so that I didn't completely smash my face against it. I just lay there, too. I didn't want to get up; I didn't want to keep trying.

Until I heard a voice.

"Hello?" came a sweet woman's voice, and I turned a little to look up at her face. She was an elderly woman with white hair and kind blue eyes, and she was looking down at me with shock and worry. I knew I looked a complete mess. My dark red hair was all over the place in knots around my face. My tank top was ripped and my boobs were spilling out, my jeans were torn quite a bit as well. My spider bites and nose stud were throbbing with pain, and sweat, tears, and makeup were all over my face. I looked almost insane.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" she asked me, placing her groceries on the sidewalk and stooping down to my level. I pushed my hair away and sat up, trying to answer her but not being able to find my voice.

"Goodness, what happened to you?" she asked, touching my shoulder, and I pulled away instinctively. It wasn't that I didn't like her. But touch is something I'm not very good with at all.

"Come on, come with me," she said, and I looked at her, confused.

"But-"I started, and she held up a hand to silence me. Surprisingly, it worked.

"No buts, ma'am, you look like dead walking," she stated, and she took my hand and tried to pull me to my feet. My legs almost refused to move, but I somehow managed to stand with her help.

"Come, my car's over here," she said, and even though I had no idea who she was, it felt like I could trust her, and I let her bring me over to her car and put me in the passengers seat.

"We'll be at my house in a few moments," she assured me, and off we went. I sat there with my forehead leaned against the window, trying to find calm in the dark and cold, but now it felt tainted with something horrible. No matter how hard I tried, I just simply couldn't get those images out of my head. Everything that had happened only…how long ago? How long had I been running from something that I could barely remember?

In about two minutes, we pulled up to a cute little house with the lights on in every window I could see. She parked the car and walked over to my side, helping me out. I let her. I felt like a zombie as much as I looked like one, and I didn't want to move or really do anything at all. She knocked on her front door and waited.

"Hey, Ma, why didn't you just-"a voice started to say, a man's voice, and I tensed up on instinct. Did I also mention that men are not something I'm good with also? I looked up and saw him staring at me, looking from me to his mother and back again. He was a muscular white guy with dark hair, dark eyes, and a sort of rough look to him.

"Ma, who is this?" he asked.

"No time for questions, Bobby, I need to get this girl some help," said the women, and the man named Bobby helped her get me into the house and onto a couch in the living room. The women sat down next to me and turned my head to face her.

"Can you tell me your name, please?" she asked me. I sniffled a little, and realized I was crying. I had been trying so hard not to feel anything that I hadn't even noticed I was crying.

"Anya," I answered, my voice sounding like I'd been screaming for hours.

"Anya, my name is Evelyn," she said. "I need you to tell me if you're hurt anywhere."

"Hey, Ma, how long-"said someone, but they stopped, just like Bobby had. I was leaving everyone speechless with my ragged appearance.

"Everything hurts right now," I admitted, my voice pitiful, my chest aching with sobs. She rubbed my shoulder, trying to soothe me.

"Would you like to go shower? You look like you could use one, no offence."

I laughed a tiny bit and nodded.

"May I please?" I asked, and she nodded and tried to help me off the couch, and I gently pushed away.

"Its fine, I can walk," I said, and I looked around and saw the man who had stopped talking when he saw me. He was a buff black man with no hair. He was looking at me with genuine worry on his face, even though he didn't even know me. Evelyn led me up a staircase and into a bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and tried to run my fingers through my hair, but it was so full of knots, I couldn't do it.

"I'll get you some clothes to wear," said Evelyn, handing me a towel. "You won't mind wearing boys clothes, will you?"

"No," I said feebly, shaking me head. She nibbled her bottom lip and then left me alone, locking the door behind her. I sat there for a moment, not knowing if I even wanted to attempt to move, before I stood up and peeled my clothes off. As an article of clothing feel off, a mark was revealed on my skin. A bruise, a cut, a scratch, a hand print from grabbing my leg….I shuddered looking at the marks, and I stepped into the shower and let the water wash over me. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get myself lost in it. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the shower, my knees pulled up to my chin, crying as quietly as I could. Crying for something that had happened that I don't even remember.


End file.
